


Chasing The Moon

by StellarJay



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 15:16:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7579105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StellarJay/pseuds/StellarJay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sigrun notices something she didn't quite notice before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chasing The Moon

Siv met the last of the crew members Trond had appointed on the Kastrup base just moments before their departure. Her impression of the woman who had been designated captain was rather insignificant beyond ‘she just might be competent enough to keep them alive’ even if believing her wild claims that the tank had already lacked a mirror or that the Øresund bridge had already broken before they got there were moot. Siv even found herself parroting, “It was already broken,” to the admiral like a guilty child, just to cover their asses from the somewhat terrifying and loud man. She could skirt away from claiming responsibility all she wanted, as long as she could just bring them back safe. By some stretch beyond what Siv could have hoped for, Sigrun did bring them back safe and alive.

Sigrun, all the while, wondered how she wound up with such a scared little weasel for one of her bosses.

* * *

 

Sigrun defensively crossed her arms. “It was already broken when we got here,” she said pointedly. Reynir was nervously simpering next to Sigrun. Poor guy accidentally broke a piece of lead crystal stemware, a priceless relic salvaged from the old world. Whatever, thanks to him there was finally some excitement going on at this horrible Swedish schmoozefest the Västerströms had dragged them all to. The wait staff insisted the glass would have to be taken out of their bill due to its valuable nature. Sigrun was having none of that. It took what most of the rest of the table saw as an embarrassingly long confrontation, with most of the restaurant staring, but they eventually gave up. As they left, Sigrun narrowed her eyes and muttered, “Yeah, that’s right buddy, keep walking,” followed by Sigrun hearing someone nearby stifle a laugh.

Sigrun turned to see Siv clearly displaying amusement at the scene which had just passed. She cocked her head in surprise; seeing anything but fretting on that woman almost felt out of place. That’s probably why seeing her actually loosen up and laugh a little was something interesting. Sigrun awkwardly jerked her gaze away when she noticed she’d been looking Siv’s way for probably too long. When Sigrun felt a rush of warmth to her head and chest, she blamed it on the disgusting pine flavored liquor that was being served that evening.

* * *

 

Siv passed down the short stretch of road between the grocer’s and their home with bags in her arms. Spring was coming soon, the rising temperatures making the streets mushy; the slush was starting to soak through her boots. They were cheap, but she’d only have to wear them a little longer. Their financial situation was about to improve immensely. Or at least it was supposed to. If Siv knew one thing, supposed to and should could never be counted on. It was always best to be prepared for the worst rather than let it catch her off guard again.

Siv had been an idealist once. An intelligent young girl full of promise at the top of her class. A lot of kids think they’re going to change the world somehow, and Siv had been no different. That was why she took up the career she did. Yet, trying to save a world that’s already over is different. Each successive failure slowly wore away at her like a grindstone, ebbing away all scraps of hope or optimism left, and failure was all there had been.

A tall redheaded woman rounded the corner, carrying herself in a brash and authoritative manner, which Siv had come to recognize. Sigrun lifted her head in recognition when she noticed Siv and walked over to her. “Hey there, you want some help with those?” Sigrun asked as she raised a gloved hand to point at the sacks of groceries. Siv hardly gave a verbal response, just an exasperated groan as she shoved the heavy load into Sigrun’s arms.

As they started on their way, Siv was struck with an oddly school-girlish impulse to become hyper aware of every little detail of herself, from her posture to the way she moved or fidgeted and what of it Sigrun might be noticing, almost the way a fourteen-year-old behaves in the presence of the object of their affections. But of course it wasn’t like that. She was married. She’d admit that she did admire Sigrun and all the fortitude she must have to face the horrors out there first hand and not lose herself. But not like that; she was sure plenty of people probably admired Sigrun.

For reasons she wouldn’t admit to herself, Siv felt a pang of guilt.

* * *

 

As captain and leader of the mission, Sigrun had the excruciating task of having to endure several debriefing discussions with the mission coordinators while the younger ones ran off doing whatever. At least Mikkel usually had to suffer through them with her, and that made her feel a little better. It was mostly technical jargon that went clear over her head. 

But sometimes, before meetings, Sigrun would find her hands jittery with nerves and excitement. Each meeting, she’d seat herself across from Siv, arms crossed, and legs outstretched. Occasionally their eyes would flicker in each other’s direction and meet, but Siv would usually be the first to quickly look away. Sigrun could swear she could read embarrassment in Siv’s expression when she’d dodge Sigrun’s glances.

Come evening when Siv retired to the same room as Torbjörn, as she likely had been doing for well over a decade, Sigrun could feel a terrible thud in her chest as if she’d had the wind knocked out of her. Something must have shown in her face, because Mikkel raised a questioning eyebrow at her. Sigrun shot him a warning look before silently resigning herself to her own sleeping quarters for the night.

* * *

 

Siv sat at the dining room table, clinging to her cup of coffee, unseeing eyes staring blankly into her cup. It was starting to get cold and she hadn’t had a sip. He’d been good to her, and Siv couldn’t deny that. When she’d said “For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer . . .,” she’d meant it. But she never thought she’d have to mean it. It wasn’t just the money, no, so much had gone wrong that never should have. It wasn’t supposed to, when the bright young idealistic scholar everyone was certain was going to make many contributions to the ongoing hunt for a vaccine married the wide-eyed and eagerly optimistic wealthy young entrepreneur, the future looked so bright. So much shouldn’t have gone wrong. How did so much go wrong?

He was still that wide-eyed, eager optimist, and part of Siv still loved him for that, but there was also the part of her that resented him for it. He’d only been able to cling to that gullible innocence because he hadn’t slowly and agonizingly been taught a lesson in reality over the past decade like she had. The cozy life of business dealings had given him protection she never had. He didn’t understand, and there was no way she could make him.

Then there was the tall red headed woman in the yard, doing what Siv could only presume was some sort of training ritual to keep up a troll hunter’s physique while she was sedentarily kept away from any troll activity in Mora. She’d been spared even less from the realities of a sick world than Siv had, and from much earlier on. Yet there she was, eager and enthusiastic as a child new to the profession.

Siv cursed herself, and when Sigrun paused for a breath, Siv stepped outside and stood beside her. They stood there in silence for a while, watching as the first stars appeared on the horizon. Siv couldn’t help but notice how much Sigrun towered above her with Siv barely coming to her chin. Siv liked tall. She didn’t even realize when their fingers laced together.

From the second story, the crew’s night scout spotted them from his darkened bedroom window, but he was good at minding his own business. He figured it would be best not to mention anything to the blonde Swede he was sharing a room with.

The next day, Sigrun returned the sentiment when she found Siv tucked away in the living room reading. Sigrun silently sat beside her, with neither of them making any eye contact. It was a scene that could pass as innocent enough to a passerby; their bodies made minimal contact, but Sigrun still reveled in their thighs touching. Siv heard the change in Sigrun’s breath when she leaned closer up against her.

Siv eventually broke the silence. “How do you do it?” she asked softly, her eyes lowered. “How can you fight the same god damn fight every day again and again, making no progress, knowing it’s going to be the same fight again tomorrow and the day after, knowing it’s not going to get any better. How can you do that and still . . . and not . . .” Siv tumbled over words she was at a loss for. Sigrun grew concerned when she saw traces of agony in Siv’s face.

“I’ve never kidded myself that I could get rid of all of them, or that they’d ever stop coming. All I do is try to keep one village safe for the day. I’ve never had to worry about making it stop forever or trying to make the whole world better. I couldn’t handle that kind of pressure. In a lot of ways ways, I think you might be braver than I am.”

Siv tried to bite back the tear from escaping, but it was useless. She didn’t feel brave. She didn’t deserve to be called brave. She didn’t know if Sigrun leaning in to gently wipe away her tear made things better or worse. There was genuine empathy on Sigrun’s face, something Siv hadn’t seen from anyone in a long time.

Before Siv could think twice, her lips were pressing tenderly against Sigrun’s. She’d had girlfriends before in the past, but that was a long time ago. She didn’t even realize how much she’d missed the feel of another woman. Sigrun knew it wasn’t okay, but she wasn’t the one who started it, and who was she to question? She kissed back and savored it while she could.

When Siv realized what she was doing, panic hit her, and she jolted away. Distress crept over her face, which she promptly buried in her hands. “Oh my god, I didn’t just do that.” Her voice and her breath were shaky and uneven as if more tears threatened to come. Sigrun reached out to put a hand on Siv’s shoulder in an effort to comfort her, which Siv weakly brushed away. “Sigrun, this has to stop. I’m married, I’m a mother, and, I still love him . . I’m sorry, this hasn’t been very fair to you.” Her brow furrowed, but her voice steadied a little. Sigrun was now scooted away, respectfully keeping her distance, her elbows resting on her legs and eyes fixated on the floor. “No, I’m sorry, I haven’t been fair either. I don’t want your heart getting all torn up over my stupid crush.” Sigrun lifted her head and her eyes met with Siv’s. There was a tense silence for a moment before Siv replied.

“It was already broken before you got here.”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure it would have been a happier ending if Siv walked in on Torbjörn smooching Mikkel and they went "well shucks I guess we're both poly and bi time to have an open marriage"


End file.
